


Strawberry Laundry Blues

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Fuckbuddies, Kissing, Not Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase Two Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy knows better than to try to answer emails with one hand while she's carrying her lunch tray with the other, even if she hadn't sprung for a rejuvenating strawberry milkshake to clear off the doldrums of too many status meeting calls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Comment fic written for the [MCU Kissing Fest](http://such-heights.dreamwidth.org/459287.html), for the prompt _Darcy/Clint, milkshakes_. Cleaned up and expanded a little bit.

"Son," Darcy says, staring down in disbelief at the pink, sticky _disaster_ that is splashed across her blouse. "Of. A. _Bitch_."

Did she mention her blouse is silk? And never-before worn (by her, at least?) And technically not in her budget even on clearance? Because, yeah. All of that, so really, it's less disbelief and more horror.

Even better, the whole mess is her own fault. She knows better than to try to answer emails with one hand while she's carrying her lunch tray with the other, even if she hadn't sprung for a rejuvenating strawberry milkshake to shake off the doldrums of too many status meeting calls. She's just going to have to chalk it up to Monday and work out an appropriate consequence for her stupidity later. (Actually, she figures she can just hang the ruined blouse on the wall of her (tiiiiiny) apartment so she can 'enjoy' the view while she sits at home and doesn't spend any money.)

At least the guy whose back she'd blindly walked into had been spared any mess. From the look of him, he's one of the grad student/lab rats and Darcy knows they have enough to deal with just from trying to keep up with the head geeks. Darcy waves him off and gets herself out of the cashier's line to go find the nearest bathroom to see if there's anything she can salvage.

Of course, Gaston (NB: Not actually his name, but it works better in a professional setting than The Dickwad From Marketing), who'd taken Darcy not wanting a second date as a threat to his social standing (hell, she hadn't exactly wanted a first date, but she and Jane had been new to the facility and she'd been a little lonely, honest mistake) is smirking at her from two steps away.

"Tell me, Lewis," he says, grinning like an ape (which is just insulting to the simian species in Darcy's opinion) along the rest of his group of slavering idiots/zombies/friends, "does your mil--"

"If the next words out of your mouth involve 'milkshake' or 'yard,' I will taze you until you piss yourself," Darcy snarls. Evidently, she has reached some sort of perfect storm of not-giving-a-shit, because he actually stops talking and the entire group just sort of backs away until she whirls and storms off. She's sure the twitter and snapchat and vine uploads are in full process, and god, she doesn't even want to think about periscope. Her only saving grace might be that Fury probably has an edict against photo/video shot inside the facility. She'll just keep thinking that anyway.

Fortunately, the Ladies room off the cafeteria is empty. Unfortunately, the spill is even worse than she'd feared. She stares at her reflection in the mirror and really, just wants to cry. There's no way she can go back out like this, but it'll take hours to get home and changed and back, and see above, re: no fucking money to go buy even a crappy t-shirt.

"Okay, Lewis," Darcy says to her reflection. "Get a grip and _think_." 

She considers her options as she peels the shirt off and wets some paper towels to start getting the stickiness off her skin. Jane probably has an extra lab coat Darcy can borrow. It'll look stupid, but Jane tends to wear them oversized, so there's a chance it'll button over Darcy's chest and not be indecent. It's at least something, Darcy decides. 

"Okay, odds on Jane actually having her phone turned on and near her body?" Darcy asks her reflection. "Yeah, not good." Before she can fish her phone out of her purse, there's a knock at the door. "Go away," Darcy sings out. She's actually kind of proud she managed not to use any profanity.

"C'mon, Darce," Clint calls. "It's just me."

"I appreciate the support, but I'm not putting this damn shirt back on, so let me text Jane and try to figure something out."

"I got you covered," Clint says. "Unlock the door."

Darcy seriously doubts that—aside from his field gear, his wardrobe basically consists of UnderArmor tight enough that there's no way she could get her boobs in it, and torn up t-shirts with holes in strategically bad places—but maybe she can fake her way up to Jane's lab with one of his jackets.

"Fine," she sighs, and flips the deadbolt. He opens the door just enough to slide inside, which Darcy appreciates, since she really isn't all that keen on flashing anyone walking by outside. Flashing the guy with whom she is currently fuckbuddying (and okay, maybe a little more than that, but they haven't actually, y'know, talked about things yet) is another story, but even that's not going her way, as it is definitely not a sexy-bra day. 

Judging by the slow once-over he's giving her, he doesn't seem to care, but Darcy does have standards. 

"I missed the action, but yeah, you really did a number on this," Clint says, picking up the damned blouse and eyeing it with a semi-professional eye (Darcy has seen some of the shit he's come back covered in from the weirder Avengers' calls, so if he's impressed, she guesses she really did it up right.) 

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed," she snips back at him, crossing her arms and glaring. 

"But you're all cleaned up," he says with a mock frown. "Here I was, all primed to help out—"

"Wait, am I really so pathetic you feel like you have to set me up for the 'always a day late and a dollar short' crack?" Darcy asks. 

"Pathetic is not really the word I had in mind." Clint smirks cheerfully at her and she rolls her eyes. (Hey, snark is the lifeblood of their relationship. It just is what it is.) "Okay," Clint says. "As much as I hate to cover you up right now, I brought you this." He holds out a plastic shopping bag. "You left it at my place last month–I stuck it in my gear, but kept forgetting to give it to you--"

"Ohhh," Darcy says, snatching the bag out of his hands and all but waving the black t-shirt she finds in it. "You totally get a pass the next time you forget I'm waiting for you 'cause you're down on the range."

"Don't think I won't take you up on that," Clint warns. 

"I know you will." Darcy pulls the shirt over her head, and in the first break she's caught yet, it's not even a bad match for the skirt she's wearing. Plus, it smells a little like Clint from where it's been tucked in with his gear—the warm leather of his arm guards under the sharp metallic bite of his arrows, topped off with mint from the gum he chews when he's on the range. Darcy can totally deal with wrapping herself up in that (also, she acknowledges that liking it as much as she does means she probably should take the hint and talk to him about what she thinks they both already know, but… One crisis at a time.) "We probably won't make it 'til the end of the week before you're gonna need to."

She picks up the ruined blouse and turns on the water in the sink. It's probably hopeless, but she should try—

"Ho, wait, wait," Clint says, snatching the blouse out of her hands. "Nat says not to do anything to it, just get it to her cleaner, the sooner, the better." He drops it into the plastic bag. "I got it—it's your conference call day, right?"

"Right," Darcy manages to answer, a little off-balance because nowhere in her life plan did the goal of having an Avenger dropping off her laundry appear. To be honest, just hearing that he knows her schedule is kinda unreal. Seeing as how it's all happening, though, it's definitely time to allow an exception to her No-Romantic-Shit-At-The-Office rule. "Thank you." She leans up and presses a kiss to the side of his mouth. "Down payment for actual thanks later."

"Excellent," Clint says. "Cause I gotta tell you that watching you threaten Dickwad kinda turned me on."

"Pfft," Darcy says, waving airily. "What doesn't turn you on, Barton?"

"About you?" Clint traces his thumb over Darcy's cheekbone, which does completely unfair things to Darcy's breathing. "There isn't much that doesn't turn me on," he says, to which Darcy feels the only proper response is a for-real kiss, one that's slow and unhurried, where she's pressed close with her arms wrapped his neck and his mouth's teasing hers open so he can lick into her. It's pretty fucking spectacular, at least until Darcy's phone bings at her and reminds them where they are.

"For sure picking this up later tonight," Clint tells her with one final brush of his mouth on hers, and leaves her to neaten up her hair and get her breathing under control. She's still a little flushed when she follows a few minutes later, but seriously, is she really supposed to care when the reason is so excellent?

Yeah, Darcy doesn't think so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to call this--another chapter? an epilogue? a timestamp?--but here's a little more in the epic adventures of the intern and her laundry. :D

"Oh, my god," Darcy says, holding up the plastic-wrapped blouse. "Oh, my god, look at that, look, it's actually _white_ again--your cleaner is _amazing_." She beams at Clint and his partner (who has actually been introduced to her as Natasha, except it has proven impossible for Darcy to actually use the woman's first name and it feels weird to think 'Agent Romanoff' in her head. She needs to buck up and get over it, though.) And, yes, Darcy tells her brain, she's aware that she's babbling, and yes, she remembers that this is not the impression she's been trying to make (seriously, it's been like a political campaign she's mapped out, walking the line between being herself and not acting like the too-young-for-an-Avenger intern that she's pretty sure the rest of the world sees her as), but there isn't even the slightest hint of pink left on the silk and it really is amazing. "Thank you, I totally owe you for this."

"You're welcome, but all I did was know who to call." Natasha— _There_ , Darcy tells her brain, _Happy now?_ \-- touches the wide collar on the blouse gently. "They did a very nice job, especially considering its age--it's vintage, isn't it?"

"Yeah, early 60s, totally _Mad Men_ , though, not Twiggy," Darcy answers. "I usually can't fit into anything I find when I'm out at the vintage stores, which is why I went crazy with my lunch budget and bought this one as soon as I saw it."

"Then I'm very glad I was able to help."

"You totally saved it—" Darcy raises an eyebrow at Clint's _Hey, what about me?_ face. "You, too, I know, I know, but I've already thanked you." He subsides with a smirk, which Darcy will allow, because, yeah, there was some serious appreciation shown, if she does say so herself. "So, yes, I could, I don't know, buy you a coffee—or, no, wait, you do tea, I actually knew that, sorry—"

"It's really not necessary," Natasha says, and Darcy schools her face, because, yeah, of course it's not really an efficient use of her time, what was Darcy thinking? But then Natasha adds, "The phone call asking for help was more than enough entertainment." She slants a glance Clint, who's working the whole _I have no idea what you're talking about_ attitude. "And that's before I add in how much less likely I am to die from food poisoning since he's been seeing you and started to pay attention to the science experiment he called a refrigerator."

Clint opens his mouth to deny it—seriously, Darcy can almost see the words forming, and evidently, so does Natasha (judging from the skeptical eyebrow that Darcy is totally going to figure out how to do someday)—but he backs down with a semi-irritated, "Whatever." Darcy grins at him, because it's not like she doesn't like hearing that she's definitely a part of his life, the same as he's somehow gotten all into hers, and Natasha's expression turns amused and… affectionate. That fits pretty well with how Clint talks about her (that had actually been one of the first things Darcy noticed about Clint (okay, once the physical yumminess was dealt with, because, hello, armsasseyessmile, but all kinds of jerks have those, so once she actually got to talking with him, yeah, that was pretty cool), because there really aren't many people who will crack jokes with the Black Widow and expect her to answer in kind) but it's the first time Natasha has let Darcy see that kind of thing. It is deeply awesome, even before Natasha turns the indulgent expression on Darcy herself.

"You understand I can't really make plans," Natasha says after a few seconds, and Darcy scrambles to get her mouth to catch up with her brain ( _so_ not the standard situation for her.)

"No, yeah, I get that," Darcy manages to say. "I mean, you know I deal with it with him—" Darcy waves at Clint, and then is struck by a horrible thought. "I do deal with it, right? You're not, like, annoyed with me 'cause I'm clingy or --"

“Yeah,” Clint says, and Darcy feels her expression freeze in horror. “I mean, no--you’re not--I’m not--”

“No, he is not annoyed, and no, you are not clingy,” Natasha interprets, rolling her eyes at Clint, before turning her attention back to Darcy. "You handle him very well.” 

“Thanks, Nat, nothing like knowing I need handling,” Clint mutters. Natasha sighs but otherwise ignores him, still focused on Darcy, who manages to remember where they were before she and her little freak-out had started the whole side topic. 

“Right, I’m good with crazy schedules, thanks for the confirmation,” Darcy says, wrenching herself back into her normal groove. She is a sociable person; she can handle making a coffee date, even if it is with her sleeping partner’s best friend (she’s trying not to think about the Black Widow part of it or she’ll just totally lose it again.) “As for the meeting up for the hot, flavored beverage of our choice, I’m good with whenever’s good with you--unless it’s the middle of the night, because Jane gets first--and only--dibs outside of the Amazing Hawkeye, here.” 

“No-middle-of-the-night doesn’t seem too onerous of a restriction,” Natasha says drily, and, okay, Darcy can admit to getting a thrill at making Natasha Romanoff arch an eyebrow in amusement. “Why don’t we start with tomorrow afternoon and see if the idiots of the world will let us coordinate our schedules before the new year.”

“Works for me,” Darcy says, and manages to keep her cool until Natasha disappears around the corner, after which she possibly might be so excited she drops her phone as she texts Jane. It’s one of the models Stark Industries has upgraded for field work, though, and it doesn’t break, so that’s okay; and Clint’s really the only witness. Since he has seen her in full-on crazy-mode before and is still showing up to rock her world on an almost nightly basis, she figures he’s okay with the emotional tornado that can sometimes rage through her life.

“I don’t know,” Clint’s saying, even as Jane texts Darcy with _!!!_ and Darcy texts back _IKR?!!?!!!1!!!1!_ with reckless disregard for Jane and her aversion to text-speak. “I kinda feel like you’re more excited about her than me.” He’s got the sarcastic delivery down cold, but Darcy is aware of just how easily that can cover actual shaky feelings, so she doesn’t hold back or try to be cool and professional, just throws her arms around him and gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

“Nope, nope, nope,” she assures him. He still gives her a slightly dubious look, so she admits, “Okay, maybe a little, _but_ \--” She kisses him again, more seriously this time. “Most of that is because I’m pretty sure she doesn’t get involved until _you’re_ really involved, which is good news by me.”

“Oh,” Clint says. “Uh, yeah--the me being really involved part, at least.”

“Awesome,” Darcy says, beaming at him. “Me, too.” He backs her into an unused conference room, kicking the door shut behind them and kissing her breathless. “This doesn’t mean we don’t have to have the talk, though.”

“Yeah,” Clint sighs. He rests his forehead against hers and gives her the sad eyes. “I guess.”

“Buck up, Avenger,” Darcy says, and yes, fine, she’s more than a little giddy, but she feels like the event is worthy of unrestrained excitement. Life is too damn short not to feel it all. “It’ll be okay--we know it’s coming and we know we’re gonna say yes. Much lower stress that way.”

“If you say so,” Clint says, but Darcy knows the look in his eyes, the one that says he doesn’t actually mind what’s going on, he’s just yanking her chain, so she lets him kiss her again and then heads back to the lab to sort out the day’s paperwork and ~~hassle the geeks into cracking a smile~~ spread a little joy, because, seriously, life is just too. damn. good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always forget to mention this, but I'm [](http://topaz119.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**topaz119**](http://topaz119.dreamwidth.org/) (dreamwidth) // [](http://topaz119.livejournal.com/profile)[**topaz119**](http://topaz119.livejournal.com/) (lj) // [](http://topaz119.tumblr.com)[](http://topaz119.tumblr.com)**topaz119** (tumblr) if you want to come say hi!


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